Through a Glass Darkly
by Sarasusamiga
Summary: Sitting with the unconscious Mai on board the BattleShip, Ishizu discovers a different source of power.


Title: Through a Glass Darkly Rating: PG-13 Category: Psychological/Drama/Romance  
  
Pairings: IshizuxMai  
  
Summary: At Mai's bedside, Ishizu wrestles with guilt . . . and other things. Warnings: Shoujo-ai. Spoilers: BattleShip and Noa Arc events.  
  
Something was wrong about the silence.  
  
The slender woman lay carven-still, her kohled eyes fixed unseeingly on the ceiling of her cabin.  
  
She vaguely remembered stirring out of sleep--minutes ago? hours?--when a series of jolts shook the blimp. But slumber had reclaimed her almost immediately. The unaccustomed experience of dueling (and *such* a duel) had wearied her yesterday evening--and then came the emotional drain of telling the children the tragedy of the Ishtar family.  
  
In the middle of it all, she had given up the Millennium Torque.  
  
There had been a strange satisfaction in placing it, at last, in the hands of the young boy who was host to the spirit of the lost Pharaoh.  
  
But the searing loss!  
  
She closed her eyes on the memory: that critical, long-ago moment when she reached out a trembling hand and took the collar from its granite resting- place in the chamber beneath the ruins.  
  
Her vision had swirled wildly--dizzying her so she had to cling to the stone table--until gradually things settled back into perspective. But it was a different perspective: a doubled image like (and yet not like) the kind reflected in a car's rear-view mirror or a double-glazed window. The shape of things at present, shadowed by the shape of things to come.  
  
She had kept the artifact safe all these years, had used it as rarely as possible, and never for her own advancement: only to try to further the true mission of the Ishtars in the face of her brother's rebellion. And yet, she could not deny the thrill that came from placing it around her neck--the tingle in her fingertips that said, *You have done this before, daughter of the Nile, before and before and before.* She had loved the challenge of sitting still and focused as her inward sight learned to seek out sharp-edged truths among the shifting waves of Time.  
  
Her duty had become her joy, a jewel of pleasure set against the backdrop of a grim future. She was carrying out her destiny as a bearer of a Sennen item.  
  
But now her vision had settled back into the flat bright and dark of her childhood and youth.  
  
Now her Millennium duty was done, and her own future unclear. All she had was the kernel of hope Seto had unwittingly bestowed upon her. An inevitable outcome--had changed. As a source of comfort, it was little enough to rely on, amid these heavy shadows Malik had cast upon this ship and its passengers.  
  
Rishid, for one . . . . Her foster-brother's silent strength was now inaccessible; gone forever if Malik were to find him. Thank the gods, at least, that Anzu had warned her to hide Rishid away. Despite Ishizu's painful knowledge of Malik's shadow self, her instinctive loyalty had caused her to deny the dangers. Only when her brother's true voice sounded on Anzu's lips did Ishizu realize the need to act, and swiftly.  
  
Their host, surprisingly, had not sneered at the request; he simply nodded curtly and led the way through his own suite to an ordinary-looking panel in the wall. A flick of his nail against one of the light fixtures, and the panel slid aside to reveal a tiny chamber, complete with bed and sink. He'd then charged two of his dour-looking subordinates with the task of helping her ease Rishid's large form through a narrow service-passageway and into the hiding place.  
  
At least that aspect of Ishizu's duty remained clear--her responsibility to Rishid.  
  
Reluctantly she rose, donned head-covering and golden bands, and went to investigate that wrong-feeling silence.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Trapped underwater. Well, it made a change from being trapped underground.  
  
The BattleShip staff were rattled; nervous enough to stray from their usual reticence. The blimp, she was told, had been hijacked off course by an outside force, then drawn into an undersea fortress. Under threat from the gunports set in the walls of the hangar, most of the passengers had been forced to disembark. The party responsible was apparently a boy with some grievance against Seto--his face had appeared on the communications monitor on the bridge. "We were forced back onto the ship when we tried to follow. To our knowledge, only you, ma'am, our crew, and the two patients are still on board," said one of the men who had helped her earlier with Rishid.  
  
"Then...my brother..." Ishizu trailed off.  
  
"He was not among the group that was abducted, but he was seen leaving the ship shortly after.--I don't think that's a wise idea, ma'am."  
  
Ishizu found she had taken an involuntary step towards the exit hatch.  
  
"You're right, of course," she murmured, and gave him a tight smile. "I'll see to my stepbrother, then."  
  
Trying to keep her back straight, she moved off down the hall. Behind her, the bearded staffer cleared his throat; she looked back inquiringly.  
  
"Given these unusual circumstances, might I ask you to check in on the passenger Kujaku Mai? Our doctor and nursing staff are tending to hurts sustained by some of the crew during the forced landing. They paid her a brief visit just after touchdown to make sure her condition remained stable, but they haven't had the opportunity to return."  
  
Ishizu hesitated almost imperceptibly before inclining her head.  
  
The man's expression lightened. "Should you need anything, come to the bridge--we're working to restore some of the compromised systems. Unfortunately, the call buttons in the rooms are not yet functional. We'll let you know of further developments."  
  
* * * * * Ishizu had spent a lonely half-hour in vigil beside Rishid's too-still form. Now, she found herself standing in front of the infirmary door.  
  
A minute passed before she lifted her hand to the card-swipe apparatus. As the crew member had indicated, they'd left the room unlocked. The door slid noiselessly aside, and she stepped within almost as silently.  
  
The room was shadowed; the dim light filtering through the windows from the hangar only made it seem darker. After a moment, her eyes adjusted enough to make out the sheen of hair draping the pillowcase, the pale arms against the covers.  
  
Ishizu sank into the chair beside the bed. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to Mai's profile.  
  
Entering this young woman's room alone was a deal different from standing within the golden circle of friends at her bedside. This morning, Ishizu felt the wretched weight of her family's crimes...against her brother's many pawns, against that silver-haired youth, and now against this woman. She shook her shoulders, and reached for the switch of the bedside lamp.  
  
A bright yellow bubble bloomed, enveloping the room's two occupants.  
  
Ishizu shifted uneasily. Mai's shoulders looked bare and cold--the medical team must have removed her vest before putting her to bed. Strange that they hadn't changed the corset at the same time for something looser and warmer. Surely the tight lacing was constricting her breathing?  
  
"How can she stand wearing such a thing?" Ishizu wondered as she stood and crossed to the open closet. Unlike most of the duelists, Mai had brought several changes of clothing on board with her, and these had been transferred from her room to the infirmary. However, the tops--for that matter, the skirts and pants too--seemed just as short and tight as what she was wearing now.  
  
At the far end, there was a frothy confection--a nightgown, insubstantial compared to any Ishizu had ever seen but warmer than anything else in the wardrobe. Ishizu slipped it off the hanger and returned to the bedside. Gently, she drew away the covers and reached to undo the laces at Mai's breast.  
  
Her hands froze before touching the ribbons. *I hadn't quite thought this through.* She swallowed as she looked at Mai's long limbs.  
  
Mai's naked feet were narrow, gently arched; her calves and thighs rounded, yet firm; her exposed midriff barely stirred with each shallow breath. The corset confined generous breasts at the same time that it outlined, celebrated, their curves.  
  
Ishizu had not seen another woman's body at such close quarters--had never even paid much attention to her own. Though she'd abandoned the unadorned, concealing traditional garb of the Tombkeepers when she left the Valley of the Kings to attend Cairo University, she had never adopted the Western- style clothing common among her contemporaries. After taking the position with the Supreme Council of Antiquities, she'd assembled a wardrobe of dresses of her own design, combining ancient Egyptian motifs with modest, yet flattering styling.  
  
Her poise and elegance--her very remoteness--had attracted several admirers among her colleagues both at home and in her travels abroad. She had deflected all expressions of interest with courteous determination. She neither needed nor wanted such distractions.  
  
So it was that she barely recognized the sensation that curled up her legs and into her belly for what it was--the heat of desire.  
  
She retreated a step, glanced down at the gown in her hand as though baffled as to how it had gotten there, then hastily leant over Mai and spread it over her with shaking hands, pulling the covers back up.  
  
*Your brother has banished her soul into the Shadow Realm, maybe forever, and here you are: doubling the wrong by insulting her with your gaze--and distracting yourself.* The chastising voice in her head was familiar, and almost welcome. Ishizu sat down again, knotting her hands in her lap as she stared at Mai's unresponsive features.  
  
"If only I had Malik's Rod, I could break the spell," she whispered aloud. She knew it for a falsehood even as she spoke; like the Torque, the Rod chose its own master. With or without the Rod, there was no way Ishizu could interfere with her brother's spellcasting.  
  
...Was there?  
  
Ishizu' eyes flew wide. How could she have forgotten? Amid the story-songs, the rites, the chants to her homeland's abandoned gods, was a key. Perhaps it was an old-wives'-remedy insufficient to counter the power of the Rod, but it was all she had. And she owed it to this young woman to make the attempt.  
  
Ishizu took up the other woman's hand. Bowing her head, she began--in the faintest of whispers--to chant the Song of Entry.  
  
* * * * *  
  
With a jolt, she landed on her hands and knees.  
  
The air hung so thick with shadows that she felt a nudge of claustrophobia-- even though she knew that this land stretched flat and lifeless all around her.  
  
Slowly, she got to her feet, and turned. And, a few yards away, there it was. There *she* was.  
  
Mai's spirit knelt inside a prism, the lower half of what appeared to be a strange pyramidal hourglass. And--as if it were indeed an hourglass--sand was sifting down around her from the upper half: a thin, steady stream losing itself in her hair, sliding off her shoulders.  
  
To approach, Ishizu had to lean into strong waves of dread that seemed to pulse from the gleaming apparatus. With each pulse came taunting echoes of her brother's voice--the soft and deadly sentence condemning this woman to eternal loneliness; the sonorous incantation with which he had summoned Ra-- rippling demoniacally all around her.  
  
A sudden anger welled up in Ishizu. "Cease!" she hissed.  
  
The noise ceased. Ishizu stopped short in sheer astonishment before hastening across the remaining space toward the hourglass.  
  
Mai was slumped forward so that her forehead and fists rested against the glass; her eyes were shut.  
  
Was Ishizu too late?  
  
Ishizu must have made a small sound, because suddenly, two large violet eyes opened and focused on her.  
  
The captive woman straightened up, eyes never leaving Ishizu's face. Her lips worked a few moments, and then she spoke.  
  
"What, one of his lackeys? I'm surprised he denied himself the pleasure of finishing me off in person."  
  
Ishizu stared at her.  
  
"Well, go ahead, do whatever you came to do--I can't stop you." *But if I had the opportunity, be sure I'd tear you apart,* those eyes added.  
  
Mai's voice rang as clear around her as though the glass wasn't there. ...*Was* the glass there?  
  
...Apparently so--Ishizu's knuckles connected with an icy cold surface at least an inch thick.  
  
Was there no weakness to this device? Ishizu ran her eyes over it. Could it be that the upper half of the hourglass was simply balanced upon the lower half, not attached? By toppling it, maybe she could prevent more sand from falling. *The passage of the sand must be central to this death sentence of Malik's.*  
  
Attempting to ignore the poison-darts Mai's eyes were sending into her stomach, Ishizu braced herself against the lower pyramid, reached up, and thrust against the upper pyramid with all her strength. It did not budge. Her eyes blurred as she watched the sand streaming down unchecked. She shoved again, knowing it was useless. The spell was too strong--and her strength was fading. Would she be able to remain here much longer?  
  
"I've done a lot of things I've regretted, and not done things I should," Mai's voice sounded bitterly from beneath her. "But *I've* never condemned someone to death. *I've* never destroyed another person's precious memories. How can he live with himself? How can you help him, and live with *your*self?" Mai's voice rose. "Look at me, damn you! You--you bitch! Show me that you can hear me! I know you can!"  
  
Ishizu's knees buckled and she slid down the face of the glass. She rubbed at her eyes, then lifted her gaze to Mai's.  
  
"I hear you," she managed in a thread of a voice.  
  
Mai seemed momentarily dumbstruck. Ishizu struggled with her unusually leaden tongue. "My magic--isn't much--against his. I thought..." She gulped for air, then blurted, "Miss, I am so sorry!"  
  
Mai still looked amazed, her pink lips forming an O. "You--you're real? Not one of the demons?"  
  
What had Malik *done* to this woman?  
  
Ishizu managed a nod. "Maybe...worse than a demon...I'm Malik's sister."  
  
The Shadow Realm's thick silence flowed between them. Ishizu bowed her head.  
  
"Well, you seem to be a family of lookers. Need tips on protecting your mascara, though."  
  
Was that *humor* in Mai's voice? The blonde woman was arching a brow; there was a trace of a smile on her lips. It was as though they were sitting across a coffeeshop table from one another, not caught in the fist of the Shadow Realm with one of their souls in danger of eternal death.  
  
*Doesn't she know her peril?* Ishizu wondered, then saw the strain around Mai's mouth, the bone-weary look in her eyes. *Yes, she knows.*  
  
A hot tear splashed on Ishizu's hand. Again, her hand rose to wipe her eyes.  
  
"See--that's *exactly* the problem! Don't cry, for one thing, and don't mop at your tears, for another. Show me your hand--see that black smudge? Careless!"  
  
Ishizu gave a watery laugh as she rested the hand against the glass--  
  
Except that the glass parted like jelly beneath her hand. Then re-formed around her arm, so that she was stuck with her forearm inside Mai's pyramid.  
  
Both of them gaped at it, at Mai's silvery life-sands sifting over Ishizu's hand and wrist.  
  
*Is this it? The solution?* Ishizu wondered. Frantically, she began wriggling her elbow, seeing if she could widen the opening.  
  
A mistake: the glass seemed to tighten slightly around her arm. She gave a small gasp of pain.  
  
Suddenly, soft cold hands closed around her forearm, and Ishizu looked through the glass. Mai's face still wore that half-smile.  
  
"There's no sense in *both* of us being stuck in here. Shall we see if you can slip your arm out? Carefully? Maybe we can deal with it like sliding off a ring that's too tight."  
  
Ishizu shook her head, cursing her halting speech. "No--maybe there's a way to free you--if my arm's in here--"  
  
"Why try to help me?"  
  
Azure eyes slid away from purple. "I must." *Because I failed as a sister and a Tombkeeper, as a Sennen Item bearer.*  
  
"Look at me," Mai commanded. Ishizu looked. The flippant air had dropped away; the blonde woman's features were stern, severe, beautiful.  
  
"I've had a lot of time to think, here. And I know that my life is being eroded by this--thing. I've tried to make my peace with it, though acceptance doesn't come easy to me." Mai paused. "And now you show up. I don't want anybody to throw their life away on me--too late anyway--and *you* don't even know me. . . . I hate feeling under an obligation to people, and I'll die feeling guilty if you wind up trapped."  
  
"I must," Ishizu insisted, this time holding Mai's gaze. "It is--all--my fault." With one enormous heave, she pushed forward and up with her arm, and thrust her funneled fingers into the hole between the halves of the hourglass.  
  
The sand stopped falling. Ishizu felt it begin to pile up on her gathered fingertips.  
  
Without the shivery sound of falling sand, the silence was indeed deathly.  
  
After a moment's transfixed gaze upwards, Mai's eyes dropped to Ishizu's.  
  
"You can't stay that way forever," she observed in a voice almost devoid of inflection.  
  
"As long--as I'm able," Ishizu responded tersely. Her arm was already beginning to ache from the strain; she rested her forehead against the glass.  
  
Mai's voice when she spoke again was almost chatty. "So--what's happening on board the BattleShip? I assume that's where you came from--or do you live here?"  
  
That startled a snort of laughter from Ishizu. "From the ship. Kept to my room till after--your duel. I was the--eighth duelist."  
  
"Was?"  
  
"I dueled against Kaiba Seto last night."  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"You lost?"  
  
Ishizu couldn't help it--that small bubble of hope rose in her again, tilted the corner of her mouth in a tiny smile. "Yes."  
  
"Was he insufferable?"  
  
*No, just himself, aloof and afraid of uncertainty.* Ishizu felt again a twinge of empathy for Seto. To Mai she merely responded, "He surprised me."  
  
"Well?" Mai's tone was expectant. "Tell me more!"  
  
And so Ishizu found herself relating the story of her duel, which somehow led into the darker history of the Ishtars.  
  
But this time, the story altered--because it was Mai listening.  
  
The other woman kept stopping her, probing into one or another seemingly irrelevant aspect of Ishizu's life, both underground and afterwards. "So with your parents dead, who took care of you? . . . Who taught you about, you know, the facts of life? . . . Were you the only kids underground? . . . What was it like to come to Cairo after all that? . . . How did you get into the university?"  
  
Ishizu had never shared so many details of her life with anybody. Despite the thickness of her tongue in this place, despite the horror of these circumstances, despite the numbness that had spread through her shoulder and was inching up her arm, she felt an unfamiliar openness at her center-- as if a heavy stone door had creaked ajar, letting in a rain-scented breeze.  
  
* * * * * They had come to a lull in the conversation. Something had caused Mai to retreat into herself; head bowed, she seemed engrossed in studying the hands she'd folded in her lap. In the silence, Ishizu became aware of several things: sweat trickling in tiny rivulets down the line of her cheek; the fact that her arm was now entirely numb; and an odd feeling of...fuzziness around the edges. Her strength was fading--if she grew too tired it would be impossible to maintain the circle of the spell keeping her in the Shadow Realm.  
  
"Then--Rishid and Malik both left you behind, hmmm? You've essentially made your way alone through life these past--how many years?"  
  
Mai's voice had changed again--it was low and abrupt, angry almost. The question itself felt like a punch to the gut. Ishizu wasn't sure how to answer, or whether she even wanted to. She pressed her lips shut and looked down; Mai continued.  
  
"Why even bother with them, then? You should make your own future for yourself. Cut those ties! They did, didn't they?"  
  
Reluctantly, Ishizu looked up at Mai, at Mai's pretty face contorted with bitterness. They held each other's gaze.  
  
Suddenly, a huge lump of grief swelled in Ishizu's throat. For herself, and for Mai. There was something so desperately lonely and sad about that enraged glare.  
  
Unconsciously, she pressed against the wall, as though to reach towards Mai- -  
  
And the glass parted again, admitting her head and shoulders and other arm.  
  
Mai's hands caught her around the shoulders as she swayed forward into the enclosed space.  
  
"Mai-san," Ishizu forced the words, "Please help me lift my other arm so I can switch."  
  
Staring into her face, Mai slowly shook her head. One of her hands left Ishizu's shoulder; she wiped a small trickle of tears from Ishizu's cheek with her thumb. Mai's own eyes sparkled suspiciously bright.  
  
"You've stayed soft in spite of everything, haven't you?" The hand cupped Ishizu's chin. "I envy you."  
  
And suddenly, Mai was up on her knees, and--for the merest instant--lips of satin covered Ishizu's...  
  
...as Mai grasped Ishizu's raised arm with gentle fingers and tugged it downwards.  
  
A thick burst of life-sand cascaded over them, stinging Ishizu's eyes. Her attempted protest turned into a grimace. Blood was rushing back into her arm with horrible suddenness--pins and needles a thousand times worse than any she'd experienced.  
  
Methodically, Mai had begun working her hands up and down the arm, stroking and massaging. "Have to get your circulation going again," she said matter- of-factly to the wincing Ishizu.  
  
"Please, I need--to block the sand--with my other hand now--"  
  
Mai looked her in the eye; their faces were still inches apart. "Don't be annoying. Sacrificial lambs are not my style."  
  
"Leaving you comfortless--is not--my style!" Ishizu retorted.  
  
An imp of humor leapt into Mai's eyes. "Who said anything about comfortless?"  
  
The movement of her hands on Ishizu's arm had slowed; she was running her fingernails lightly down the length of it, pausing to swirl the fingertips in the crook of the elbow, while the other hand kneaded the vee of flesh between Ishizu's collarbone and shoulder.  
  
Mai's eyelashes fluttered low as she continued to speak. "I don't know about you, but it's been a while for me, and--seems like I'm going to die anyway--might as well get a kick out of things..."  
  
Ishizu was at a loss for words. For that matter, she was at a loss for thoughts. The ferocious stinging of a few minutes ago, the intense ache in her lower back, had been replaced by a--universal humming was the best word for it, a gentle vibration that spiraled outward from Mai's fingertips against her skin.  
  
"...If you don't mind, that is," Mai said almost perfunctorily.  
  
Then she was kissing Ishizu again. Only this time, it was no swift brush of lips, it was a plundering.  
  
Something inside Ishizu, a very small part of her, had drawn back and was watching. It noted her jolt of panic as her lips parted to admit Mai's tongue. It recorded the skip of her heart as her own tongue slid against Mai's. And it observed the almost painful burst of sensation as Mai's roving hand descended on linen covering a taut nipple.  
  
*Wanton one, the door in your soul is swinging wide open now,* it whispered. *You'll never shut it again, no matter how you try.*  
  
For the first time in her life, Ishizu ignored the voice. Only her body responded: *So, let it open...* as Ishizu tipped her head back to give Mai's mouth full access to her neck.  
  
And the sand slipping across her skin seemed simply another caress.  
  
As Ishizu's fingers tangled themselves in the laces of Mai's corset (laces that, a lifetime ago, she'd recoiled from), there sounded a different voice, one that echoed around them. They stiffened and stared at each other, heat ebbing from their cheeks.  
  
*Miss Ishtar! Ma'am, are you well? Miss Ishtar!*  
  
And Ishizu felt an invisible grip take hold of her shoulders, pull her back through the glass as though it were air, drag her backwards as her arms lifted of themselves towards Mai.  
  
*No!*  
  
Mai seemed to slump in a heap, hand against her lips. Her eyes seemed wide and very dark as they followed Ishizu.  
  
*Mai...Gods, let me stay! *  
  
And the Shadow Realm shattered around her like a defeated DuelMonster.  
  
"Miss Ishtar?"  
  
Large hands still rested on her shoulders. She looked up into the face of-- was it Kei?--Kaiba's bearded staffer.  
  
Without his shades, he looked younger, and almost frightened. "You're awake?"  
  
Ishizu smiled with difficulty. "As you see." His hands dropped away. "I am sorry; with all that's happened aboard this cursed ship, when you didn't immediately rouse I assumed--"  
  
His gaze dropped to the figure in the bed beside them. Ishizu looked too.  
  
Mai's deathlike repose shocked her beyond all reason--and yet, she looked no different than she had when Ishizu first entered the room--it was Ishizu who had changed.  
  
Through her whole sojourn in the Shadow Realm, had she merely been sitting here, clasping Mai's icy hand?  
  
"Ma'am," Kei spoke again, diffident. "Would you join the crew for lunch? With all that's been going on, I think your presence would be reassuring."  
  
Suddenly, Ishizu wanted nothing more than to flee this room from which Mai's spirit was so horribly absent. She nodded, and followed him through the door.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Agitation quivered in the air as the group ate. Neither "Seto-sama" and his brother nor Yuugi and his friends had as yet returned; and there seemed no way the BattleShip itself could escape from the lock placed around it. The others' fear pulsed through Ishizu; she wished, vainly, for the Torque, for the possibility of reassuring them with a glimpse into the future; then reminded herself that Yuugi and Seto and the rest were the best hope of all. She kept to herself her own particular fear, the one that carried the Sennen Rod.  
  
As the crew dispersed to their stations, she too found herself moving, unsure of her destination . . . until her feet stopped outside the infirmary door.  
  
"I could try again," she whispered, looking down at her trembling hands.  
  
In those long-ago torchlit sessions, the elders had warned her against spending much time in the Realm. "The hours you spend there are taken from the span of your life, one way or another. And--there's the danger that the shadows themselves will become aware of your presence, and decide not to let you go."  
  
But--there was also Mai.  
  
She raised her hand to push the door open.  
  
"Better not, oneesama," came a deep voice, halfway between a slur and a purr.  
  
Malik stood barely two feet behind her, smirking. As always, Ishizu's gorge rose as she looked into the pupil-less eyes of the dark self.  
  
"Brother," she said, colorlessly. "Who knew my older sister could be so clever? Tampering with my spell! I'm quite impressed with your abilities. Maybe the fate of the Ishtars should have passed to you instead." Malik toyed with the Rod as if contemplating using the dagger end for that very purpose.  
  
Ishizu's only response was a flicker of the eyelids.  
  
"But, dear sister, I ought to thank you. The trail you left enabled me to close up a few loopholes....Let me tell you about a little trap I've placed for intruders."  
  
Anger was building inside her--never a wise response to this Malik. She turned her head, resolutely staring down the corridor rather than at his face.  
  
"The moment you--or should I say, the unidentified trespasser--tries to cross the barrier, those pretty lifesands of hers will change to little scorpions. Charming creatures. I'm sure she'll enjoy the *kiss* of them tumbling over her body. Hmmm?"  
  
The knob of the Rod came to rest against her chin, forced her head back towards Malik's leering gaze. He was apparently pleased by the look in her eyes; his mouth stretched in that impossibly wide grin.  
  
"Your decision, of course. Who knows, the woman may welcome visitors at any price."  
  
Malik tilted the knob just slightly, so that one of the curved blades turned towards her eye. Involuntarily, Ishizu flinched; Malik's grin now showed all his teeth. With a fluid motion, he lifted the Rod up and away. As it moved, one blade snagged in Ishizu's white head-covering, pulling it off her hair. She clutched vainly after it.  
  
"Oh, I made a hole? Pity." Malik made a show of holding it up to the light, then dropped it on the floor.  
  
He turned as if to go, then: "By the way, this place is about to go up in flames. Thought you'd want to know, sister." With that, he sauntered away; Ishizu heard the door to his room slide open and then shut.  
  
Ishizu was left with nothing else to do. Crumpled cloth twisting in her hands, she leaned against the wall and prayed.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * Was it luck or destiny? The young ones had returned unscathed with a hair's- breadth of time to spare; the BattleShip had punched through the flames that engulfed them; and scant moments later, it seemed, they had landed among the twisted ruins of Alcatraz.  
  
And now, Ishizu watched dense blackness roiling at the summit of the DuelTower. *A Shadow Game.* Perhaps Seto or the Pharaoh was dueling Malik even now? There was nothing she could do here--and yet something drew her out of the room. With a last look down at Rishid, she left, and soon was pacing down the corridor. Which is how she spotted Jounouchi Katsuya's sister through the open door of the infirmary, and learned the terrible truth from her--that *he* was Malik's opponent, "fighting for Mai-san" as the chestnut-haired girl put it.  
  
Heart clenched with the pity of it, Ishizu sent Shizuka off, promising to look after her charge.  
  
*Will my brother kill hers? How can I bear it? It seems a certainty...* Ishizu closed her eyes on a prayer... then opened them, slowly, to look upon Mai.  
  
After Malik's . . . warning . . . she had barely allowed herself to think of the other woman. She had no doubt that Malik had set the trap he'd mentioned, and no idea how to counteract it; it would be disastrous to attempt another visit to Mai's hourglass.  
  
*If only there was a way I could fight for you, too.* She found she had entwined her fingers with Mai's loose grasp. *For my little brother, and for Rishid--but also for you.* Slowly, she drew the fingertips of her other hand up and down Mai's arm.  
  
*"I hate being under an obligation to anybody."*  
  
Ishizu started; it was almost as though she had heard the words. They gave her pause.  
  
"Mai," she said after a moment, savoring the name on her lips. "You're right, Mai. It's me I want to fight for. ...But the life I want for myself happens to include Malik and Rishid . . . and you."  
  
Immediately she covered her mouth, but the words were spoken; and she heard the truth in them.  
  
After a few deep breaths, she smiled down at Mai. Leaning down, she whispered to her unconscious companion, "I believe in that future."  
  
*And in a distant hourglass, with sand up to her neck, a woman slowly raised her head, straightened her back just a little against the pressure of the sand.*  
  
* * * * * * * * * * As the KC chopper whirled back into the sky, a wind danced off the sea and tangled among the legs of the people standing at Domino Port.  
  
It was a strange warm feeling, having her menfolk flanking her as they stood a little apart from the rest. A feeling well worth the struggle that had gone before.  
  
A feeling, though, that didn't quite erase that other loss. * * * * *  
  
*Just two hours earlier . . .  
  
The group of companions had tumbled back onto the BattleShip, the Ishtar trio following sedately behind. As they walked, the late-afternoon sun gilded Malik's earrings for a moment. He turned to meet her gaze, and with the faintest of smiles squeezed her hand.  
  
*In this moment of brightest happiness, it seemed greedy to seek more . . . but Ishizu breathed in sea-scent, felt it sing through the open door of her heart. Alcatraz may have been the destined place for Seto's and the Pharaoh's souls to cross paths, but Ishizu too had come to a soul's crossing during this voyage.  
  
*So she mounted the steps of the BattleShip just a little ahead of Rishid and Malik, and made her way shyly towards the infirmary door.  
  
*A cascade of laughter met her, stopped her in the doorway. Mai was sitting up in bed, bending over a Jounouchi slumped in her lap. Ishizu watched as she mussed his hair, squeezed his cheeks and generally roughhoused with him in front of a gaping audience of friends. Merriment--no, joy--radiated from her. So did . . . tenderness.  
  
*"My brother is fighting for Mai-san," Ishizu remembered Shizuka saying. Now she saw why. A jolt of feeling sliced into her heart; after a moment, she recognized it as jealousy.  
  
*She lowered her hand from the doorframe and turned to go.  
  
*"Ishizu-san!" a soft voice piped, and Shizuka came pattering across the floor. "Won't you come meet Mai-san? . . . She helped look after you too, during oniichan's duel," she added for Mai's benefit.  
  
*Eyes lowered, Ishizu followed the girl to Mai's bedside. By the time she raised her gaze, she felt reasonably assured of her composure: she was one of the few adults again, greeting a new acquaintance.  
  
*Mai's laughter seemed to have died away. She merely stared up at Ishizu, one hand still buried in Jounouchi's hair. A few seconds ticked away; then her lips moved almost silently. "You . . . "  
  
* "Ishizu's Malik's sister, but she's nice," Honda put in from behind Ishizu. After a pause--and probably glares from the others--he added in a sort of cringing tone, "I mean, he's not so bad either . . . anymore . . . "  
  
*Ishizu bobbed her head slightly, allowing a slight smile to curve her lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you . . . miss. I'm thankful to see you awake now."  
  
*That, she judged, was as far as her voice could take her--at least, without wobbling--in addressing Mai. She turned the smile on the rest of them. "I believe we'll be departing shortly. I had better check to make sure my things are in order. . . .Thank you," she added to Shizuka as she passed her.  
  
*The smile became genuine, if touched with bitterness, as she emerged into the corridor. Freedom from the weight of her family's destiny--freedom to live her own life--also meant the freedom to make mistakes.  
  
*Only yesterday, her vision seemed to have lost its depth and texture. Now, she was floundering in depth of feeling. Over the course of this day, her emotional repertoire had expanded to include lust, confidence, joy . . . and now, just a touch of heartbreak.*  
  
* * * * * Rishid came back from checking on the launch, still docked where they had left it and apparently undisturbed. It was time.  
  
Ishizu stepped towards the group, said her family's farewells. Then Malik passed her to speak directly to Yuugi, his enemy become savior. And Ishizu's eyes drifted beyond Yuugi's shoulder to the woman standing behind and a little to the left of the rest.  
  
Mai wore the same half-confused, half-irritated look she'd given Ishizu since that first "real-life" encounter in the infirmary room. Ishizu gave her a slight nod, suited to their sketchy acquaintance; Mai returned it. Had the corner of her mouth twitched upwards, just a little?  
  
So . . . that was the end of that, Ishizu reflected as she boarded the launch.  
  
As she set foot on deck, her eyes caught the full force of the setting sun. Startled, she blinked. And--just briefly--*saw.*  
  
* * * * *  
  
*This dig is the hardest Ishizu has undertaken, but so well worth it: the climax to years of research. She recaps her canteen, sharing a grin with Djura--colleague, former lover, now best friend--and stands to return to work.  
  
*"Hear that?" Khaled says from his spot of shade under a fragment of temple wall. Ishizu does. They've all become expert at noticing sounds that don't form part of the daily breathing of the desert.  
  
*She flips her short braid over her shoulder, listens harder. "Motorcycle," she and Djura say together, then laugh.  
  
*"Probably Malik," Khaled says in a tone of elaborate unconcern, moving off to the square of soil through which he's been sifting. Ishizu's grin broadens. For a successful tour operator, running frequent cruises off Egypt's Mediterranean coast, Malik seems to find frequent excuses to make the trek out to the site.  
  
*"Not Malik," Djura says suddenly, behind her. Alerted by her tone, Ishizu looks toward the approaching bright speck.  
  
"Is that the visitor the Council said was coming from that overseas foundation?"  
  
"Perhaps," Ishizu answers. Somehow, despite the blazing sun, she's got goosebumps.  
  
The motorcycle is now quite close, bouncing over the last few rocky yards of the service road. Its engine rumbles to a stop, and the rider swings off the seat, lifting away the helmet as she comes towards them.  
  
Rebellious strands of short blonde hair curl around a tanned face. She's wearing safari gear, but cut stylishly. Small hoop earrings dangle from her lobes. No one could tell from her perfect makeup that she'd just been zooming at breakneck speed across an Egyptian wadi.  
  
She's shaking Djura's and Khaled's hands now, switching to flawless English after greeting them in Arabic, identifying herself as the expected visitor.  
  
And now she's in front of Ishizu, who for some reason is trying--and failing--to blink back tears.  
  
Blue eyes meet dancing violet.  
  
"Seems like you're always crying around me, Ishizu," says the stranger's familiar voice in Japanese. "Hope we can break you of that habit."  
  
~finis~ 


End file.
